“It was when opening the front door that the observer understood the melancholy Peugeot was summoning him to, by having designed on-board furniture whose austerity irresistibly recalled that of the J7 van.”
For ease of language, we usually call "estates" all the long-wheelbase 504s that appeared in the spring of 1971. In reality, as was already the case with the 404, Peugeot had developed a real range, structured according to the diversity of the user's needs. Thus, if the silhouette was always the same, between the "Grand Luxe" estate or the Familiale, and the very humble entry-level Commerciale, the on-board atmosphere, the general comfort and the details of the technical specifications presented appreciable differences. It is this last model that we are interested in here: designed above all as a work tool, austere to the point of caricature and dramatically underpowered, it suffered the fate of all utility vehicles or similar vehicles: worn to the bone (and beyond) then abandoned in a scrapyard or, more often than not, shipped to Africa to spend a less than peaceful old age. This is why there are very few surviving examples of this machine, hard to harm, alien to any fantasy, designed almost exclusively for trying tasks and which, fifty years after its appearance, deserved a few lines in the form of homage. If you read what follows - and on the condition that your soul is somewhat perverse - you will discover that destitution is not necessarily incompatible with a certain form of seduction.
The Discreet Charm of the Proletariat
From where he stands today, Luis Buñuel is no longer in a position to accuse us of mocking the title of the film he directed in 1972, which was a direct contemporary of the 504 Commerciale. You'll agree with us, Luis: how can we resist the reuse, albeit a touch sarcastic, of a phrase so ideally suited to a car whose charms aren't readily apparent to the first person? Let's briefly recall the facts. The 504 sedan was presented in the fall of 1968. The very embodiment of the spirit of seriousness, carefully avoiding any overly flashy innovation, it continued the slow move upmarket undertaken by Sochaux since the post-war period, which had very opportunely accompanied the rise in the standard of living of its customers throughout the Trente Glorieuses (Glorious Thirty Years). after the 7 horsepower of the 203, the 8 horsepower of the 403 and then the 9 horsepower of the 404, the new Peugeot family car, with its appearance where only the trapezoidal headlights and the strangely broken trunk line stood out from the ordinary, did not intend to frighten anyone and that was good: the target clientele, reasonably bourgeois, did not want to be jostled as one could be when one belonged to the singular tribe of Citroënists. True to the company's traditions, the designers of the 504 relied on tried and tested solutions and, as usual, many of them were already in the inventory of the previous model, starting with the engines, which came from the same barrel as those of the 404. Only the rear wheels, now independent, and the front seats with retractable headrests - resulting from the short-lived cooperation with Régie Renault that began in 1966 - were somewhat off the beaten track. This did not prevent the 504 from quickly achieving great success, especially since, like its predecessors, it soon multiplied its body styles; two years after the coupés and convertibles launched in Geneva in March 1969, the "long" versions made their debut, aimed, as one might expect, at a completely different target than the recreational derivatives assembled at Pininfarina.
Blessed are the poor...
for the kingdom of the axle is theirs. The live rear axle, of course, because, like the other "long" 504s, the Commerciale wasn't entitled to the four independent wheels of the sedans, mainly for reasons related to the car's payload capacity (the 505 would follow the same path, but Peugeot would never dare to release it in a variant as lacking as the one we're discussing today). As we have seen, the Familiale, the Estate, the Estate Super-Luxe and the not-at-all-luxurious Commerciale shared the same generous skeleton: built on a wheelbase of 2.90 meters (16 centimeters more than the sedan) and a total length of 4.80 meters, the body of the 504 hatchback was characterized by a rear overhang as long as a speech by Fidel Castro but in keeping with the purpose of the vehicle, and by a curious drop in the roof at the C-pillar. The whole thing testified to a certain aesthetic research, the combined inclination of the design of the wide rear doors and the quarter panel somewhat energizing the profile. At the rear, integrated vertically shaped light clusters optimized the width of the tailgate, which descended to the bumper, the load compartment thus suffering from no threshold. All the conditions were therefore in place to meet the needs of craftsmen, sales representatives or large families, to whom the Familiale, with its seven seats, was directly aimed. However, a careful reading of the brochure dedicated to the three companions revealed a distribution of roles that was not by chance: if the Break and the Familiale ventured - with a pusillanimity typical of the brand - towards the evocation of a certain opulence, as proclaimed by the laminated mahogany trunk lining (you couldn't make it up), the Commerciale, for its part, seemed immediately confined to the vilest servitude. Surprised by Peugeot's unusually aggressive pricing, those who took the trouble to examine the object in detail quickly understood where the savings came from that had allowed the Franche-Comté firm to display a sale price of only 15,800 francs - 17,900 euros in 2022 -, which is still 9% less than the basic Estate.
Estate or commercial, it's not the same journey
Right from the start, one noticed a major difference from the rest of the range: the look! The famous "Sophia Loren eyes," undoubtedly too expensive, had been replaced by a pair of circular headlights embedded in gray plastic trims that matched the shape of the usual headlights on "real" 504s. Shocked by this discovery, the observer probably didn't notice the absence of the bumper overriders or the specific five-bar grille, but it was upon opening the front door that they understood the melancholy Peugeot was evoking, having designed dashboard furnishings whose austerity irresistibly recalled that of the J7 van. Unrelated to the classic elegance of the interior of the other 504s, the Commerciale actually presented a dismal patchwork of the least expensive components available at the time: the dashboard itself came from the 304, the steering wheel was that of the 404, while the glove box had been replaced by a poorly furnished and unlatched glove compartment; only the gear lever on the steering wheel was common to the rest of the range. In addition, occupants were asked not to forget their watches because the clock had disappeared, carried away by the sadistic fever of the infamous "axe commission", so nicknamed in the corridors of the head office on Avenue de la Grande-Armée, because it was made up of accountants determined to reduce production costs as much as possible. Finally, the seats were not those of the other 504s either and provided their occupants with significantly lower postural comfort. Yet, in the very first catalog, published in April 1971, a sky-blue Commerciale is depicted in the company of a laughing family - no doubt because the driver had not yet tried to make the car move. Reading its specifications was enough to frighten the most Jansenist of drivers: in the gasoline version, the car recovered the 1796 cm3 of the first 504, deflated to 73 hp, which was already not Peru; but it was still only a pleasant joke compared to the diesel engine variant, which had to deal with the 1948 cm3 Indenor of the 404! The key, 53.5 hp, a maximum speed equivalent to that of a 2CV 6 and accelerations that modesty forbids us from quantifying. With a total authorized weight of around two tonnes, one can imagine what climbing an Alpine pass or towing a Digue caravan from Paris to Montélimar might have been like.
Between Sarcelles and the Chevreuse Valley
In the same brochure, our Côte d'Azur 504 is used for various tasks intended to illustrate its great versatility. Its fully paneled cargo area can accommodate everything from bales of straw to baguettes, and to transport all that good stuff, the right front seat can be removed, which, after folding the bench seat, results in a truly impressive usable volume. In fact, the car, Peugeot tells us, is "as pleasant for work as it is for touring." Moreover, it's very instructive to compare this sales pitch with the one presented for the Super-Luxe Estate: "These refined people will discover the luxury and harmony of the very complete dashboard, where every detail has been designed for everyone's well-being." The illustrative photos show a riding club and a patrician's residence flanked by characters who look like they've stepped out of a Claude Chabrol film. From a distance, one might even think that the brown armchairs were upholstered in leather (but, of course, it's only imitation leather). Half a century later, these images move us with the clear naivety of their message. They crudely illuminate the strata of Pompidolian society and its solidly organized class hierarchy, where progression on the social ladder was measured by a few extra chromes or ten more horsepower under the hood - any resemblance with the current period would be coincidental... Nevertheless, over the following years, the Commerciale gradually fell into line; for example, from 1972, it received the same headlights as its siblings in the range, before being renamed "L" (for "Luxe", don't laugh), at the same time as an eponymous and identically stripped-down sedan made its appearance. Subsequently, its equipment standardized and became more acceptable, while remaining, as was proper, below that of the GL versions. Therefore, these days, it is of course the very first Commerciales that must be hunted down: for fans of the genre, it is their rusticity that makes them so interesting. Like the other "long" 504s, these cars disappeared from the French market a long time ago, but you only have to wander around German shows like the Techno Classica in Essen to discover very beautiful examples whose prices frequently exceed 15,000 euros. Expensive, you say? Certainly, but it is still better than the rust-eaten wheeled hutches usually offered in France and supposedly in good condition. In any case, you will have understood: if these cars attract you, there is no more time to lose!
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